The Junior Senator

Before Spring Break, JJ told me he was going to start training again. “I want to do the Boulder Peak Triathlon this summer. It’s going to take me a good three months to get in shape. I think you should train with me.”

“I don’t know,” I said, looking down at my soft body. “It seems awfully rigorous.”

“Think,” he said, kissing my forehead, “about all the time,” he added, kissing my nose, “we’d be spending together,” he said, kissing my lips, “in the water,” another kiss, “on the bike,” another kiss,”and on the trails,” another kiss.

I’d do anything for more time with JJ. “Alright,” I said, dreading the rigor to which I had committed.

For Spring Break, the Masters went to Green Bay. I headed the other direction, to Dallas. I needed to sex JJ out of my head, and a college acquaintance — Barrett — was willing to give me a go.

At Oberlin, Barrett had been openly bisexual. At a party Junior year, he and I had hooked up in a stranger’s bedroom, the pot he had smoked and the Molly I had taken clouding our judgment just enough.

“Can I top you?” he had asked as we waited in the keg line.